CHAPTER II.
AT BAY.
What noise is that? It sounds like the distant and muffled tread andcries of a large multitude. Aye, large indeed is the multitude that isadvancing towards the village of Ryonne, where the army of Clotaire IIis encamped. Whence does that multitude proceed? Oh, it comes from far.It started as far away as the slopes of the Jura; it was swelled on theroad by large numbers of the people who inhabited the cities, hamletsand villages that it crossed; slaves and colonists, young and old men,women and children, poured from their homes, their fields, their huts;at the risk of imprisonment, the lash and even mutilation at theirreturn, slaves and colonists joined the swelling multitude; at the riskof the fatigue of the rapid march, that for some, lasted two days, forothers, one day, half a day, two hours, or one hour, according to wherethey fell in line, city people left their pursuits and eagerly turnedinto the surging human stream. But what was it that attracted so eagerlythe frantic, swelling crowd? It was these words, that flew from mouth tomouth: "Queen Brunhild is passing--she is taken prisoner to be deliveredto Fredegonde's son!"
Aye, such was the hatred, the disgust, the horror, the dread inspired inGaul by those two names--Fredegonde and Brunhild--that large numbers ofpeople found it impossible to resist the curiosity of knowing and seeingwhat was to be the issue of the capture of Brunhild by Fredegonde's son.The multitude, accordingly, moved in the direction of the village ofRyonne. Fifty horsemen in arms headed the march and cleared the way.Behind them rode Constable Herpon armed cap-a-pie, and closely afterhim, riding between two other warriors on horseback who held her palfreyby the bridle appeared Brunhild. The old Queen's arms were pinionedbehind her back and she was bound upon her saddle. Her long,gold-embroidered purple robe was dusty and mud-bespattered, and hung intatters from her body. The indomitable woman had offered a desperateresistance when she was finally overtaken by the constable and his men.One of her sleeves, together with half her corsage, was torn off, andleft bare her neck and shoulders and one of her arms, all of which werecovered with livid, bluish bruises, partly hidden under her long, grey,tangled and tumbled hair to which fragments of dung and ordure, that thepeople had flung at her while whelming her with insults, were still seento cling. From time to time, the fettered lioness gave her head aconvulsive shake in the effort to disengage her face from the disheveledlocks before it--at such times, glimpses were obtained of her hideous,horrible visage. Before being finally caught, the woman had defendedherself like a wild animal at bay. The desire of her captors was to takeher alive to the son of her mortal enemy. In the brutal hand to handstruggle of Constable Herpon and his armed men with Brunhild she wassmitten with their fists in the face and kicked in the body. Her arms,shoulders, bosom, limbs and face were severely bruised. One of her eyesbore the mark of a violent blow, given with the hilt of a sword. Theeyelids and a portion of the cheek disappeared under a large blue andblack contusion. Her upper lip was slit and swollen as the result ofanother blow, that broke in two of her teeth and bathed her lower facein blood. The blood had since dried on her skin and added to thehideousness of her appearance. Nevertheless, of such temper was thatbeing's savage energy, that her forehead retained its wontedhaughtiness, her eyes their wonted pride. Firmly fettered though shewas, bruised, tattered, covered with dust, mud and even dung, Brunhildstill looked redoubtable. Imprecations, hisses, jeers, threats, hurledat her along the route--nothing had been able to shake her inflexiblesoul.
In his haste to relish the sight of his captive and victim, Clotaireleft the village and rode out accompanied by Warnachaire to meet her.Other seigneurs of Burgundy and Austrasia, who sided with Clotaire, alsofollowed him. Among the latter were Dukes Pepin, Arnolfe, Alethee,Eubelan, Roccon, Sigowald, the Bishop of Troyes and many more.
Seeing the King from a distance, Constable Herpon hastened towards hissovereign, after issuing his orders to the two riders who led Brunhild'smount. The latter immediately spurred their horses and rode rapidly uponthe heels of the constable leading the fallen Queen between them. Oldthough she was, had she not been pinioned, Brunhild would have held hersaddle like an Amazon. But hindered by the bonds that bound her, she wasunable to follow with suppleness the motion of her mount. As aconsequence, the gallop of her palfrey threw Brunhild's body intoridiculous jumps and postures. The escort of armed men on horseback,together with the mob, followed her on the run and whelmed her withfresh jeers and hisses. Constable Herpon finally reached the King,leaped from his horse and pointing to the old Queen said to his men:
"Set her on the ground. Leave only her arms tied behind her back."
The riders obeyed, and the cords that bound Brunhild to the saddle wereunfastened. But the long pressure of the ligaments had so benumbed herlimbs that she was unable to stand upon her legs and forced her to dropupon her knees. Immediately she cried out, lest her fall be construed asan evidence of weakness or fear:
"My limbs are numb--Brunhild does not fall upon her knees before herenemies!"
The Frankish warriors raised and held the Queen. Her favorite palfrey,the same that she rode on the day of the battle, and from which she hadjust alighted, stretched out its intelligent head and gently licked theQueen's hands, tied up behind her. For the first time, but only for amoment, were Brunhild's features expressive of aught but savage prideand concentrated rage. Turning her head over her shoulder, she said tothe animal in a voice that sounded almost tender:
"Poor animal; you did your best to save me with the swiftness of yourflight--but your strength gave out; and now you bid me adieu in your ownway; you entertain no hatred for Brunhild; but Brunhild is proud ofbeing hated by all others--because she is feared by all--"
Clotaire II drew slowly near to the old Queen. A wide circle consistingof Frankish seigneurs, warriors of the army and the mob that hadfollowed formed itself around the son of Fredegonde and her mortalenemy. What with the sight of that King, and what with her owndetermination not to falter in his presence, Brunhild summoned an energyand strength that seemed superhuman. Addressing the warriors who heldher under the arms she shouted savagely:
"Back--take your hands from me--I can stand alone!"
Indeed, she stood unsupported, and took two steps towards the King as ifto prove to him that she felt neither weakness nor fear. Thus ClotaireII and Brunhild found themselves face to face in the center of a circlethat drew closer and closer. The vast crowd was hushed in profoundsilence; with bated breath the issue of the terrible interview wasawaited. With his arms crossed over his heaving breast, Fredegonde's soncontemplated his victim wrapt in silent and savage joy. Brunhild brokethe silence. With head erect and intrepid mien she said in her sharp,penetrating voice that resounded clearly at a distance:
"First of all, good morning to good Warnachaire, the cowardly soldier,who ordered my army to flee. Thanks to your infamous treachery, here amI--I, the daughter, wife and mother of Kings--with my arms pinioned, myface bruised with the fist-blows given me, soiled with dung, mud andordure thrown at me by the people along the road.--Triumph, son ofFredegonde! Triumph, young man! For two days the populace have beenwhelming with hisses, contempt and dirt the Frankish royalty, your own,the royalty of your own family in my person! You have vanquished me, butnever will the royalty recover from the blow that you have dealt me!"
"Glorious King," said the Bishop of Troyes to Clotaire II in a lowvoice, "order that woman to be gagged; her tongue is more venomous thanan asp's."
"On the contrary, I wish her to speak; I shall enjoy the torture thather pride undergoes."
While the prelate and the King were exchanging these words, Brunhild hadproceeded with an ever more resonant voice, waving her head at the crowdof warriors:
"Stupid people! Besotted people!--You respect us, you fear us, us of theroyal family,--and yet it is a royal face that you see before you,bruised with fist-blows, like that of any vile slave! The mother of yourKing--that Fredegonde who was prostituted to all the lackeys ofChilperic's palace--must often have looked as I do now, every time thatshe was be
aten by one of her vulgar associates!"
"Dare you speak of prostitution, you old she-wolf bleached indebauchery!" cried Clotaire II in a no less resonant voice thanBrunhild.
"Your mother Fredegonde had my husband Sigebert and my son Childebertstabbed to death by her pages--"
"And you, miscreant, did not you have Lupence, the Bishop of St. Privatmurdered by Count Oabale, one of your lovers?"
"And did not Fredegonde in turn cause Pretextat to be assassinated inthe basilica of Rouen, as a punishment for his having married me to yourbrother Merovee--"
"My brother Merovee married you, thanks to your sorceries, abominablewitch! And after you abused his youth you goaded him to parricide--youarmed him against his own father, who was also mine."
"And a loving father! Not content with having his son Merovee's throatcut at Noisy, Chilperic delivered to the dagger and the poison ofFredegonde all the children whom he had from his other wives."
"You lie, monster! You lie!" cried Clotaire II livid with rage andgrinding his teeth.
"Seigneur King, do order the woman to be gagged," again whispered theBishop of Troyes to the King.
"Of the many wives whom your father Chilperic repudiated there stillremained one alive, Andowere," Brunhild proceeded; "Andowere had twochildren, Clodwig and Basine; the mother was strangled, the son stabbedto death, and the daughter delivered to the pages of Fredegonde!"
"Hold your tongue, infamous woman, who introduce concubines into yourgrandsons' chamber for the purpose of enervating them and reigning intheir stead; who order the assassination of whatever honorable peoplerevolt at such a crime--as happened to Berthoald, the mayor of thepalace of Burgundy, whom you ordered killed; as happened to BishopDidier whom you had stoned to death."
"After Chilperic had my husband assassinated, he seized my relativeSigila and ordered the joints of his limbs to be burned with red-hotirons, his nose cut off, his eyes put out, red-hot irons thrust underhis nails, and finally his hands, then his arms, then his lower legs andfinally his upper legs cut off--every imaginable torture!"
"Warnachaire!" cried Clotaire purple with rage, "remember all thosetortures; forget not one; we shall presently find whom to apply themto;" and addressing Brunhild, "And did not you yourself stain your handswith the blood of your grandson Theudebert after the battle of Tolbiac?And was not the head of his son, a child of five years dashed against astone at your orders?"
"And what blood is that, still fresh, with which your own robe isbespattered? It is the innocent blood of three children, my grandsons,whose kingdoms you have secured to yourself by their murder! And that isthe manner in which we all of us, people of the royal family, act. Inorder to reign we kill our children, our relatives, our mates. Chilpericstood in the way of your mother Fredegonde's vulgar pleasures, and shehad him despatched!"
"Gag that woman!" commanded Clotaire in a paroxysm of rage.
"Oh, my dear sons in Christ," shouted the Bishop of Troyes, endeavoringto drown the panting voice of Brunhild; "place no faith in the words ofthis execrable woman in matters that concern the family of our gloriousKing Clotaire II.--These are infamous calumnies!"
"Warriors, I wish before I die, to unveil to you all the crimes of yourKings."
"Hold your tongue, demon! Female Beelzebub!" again broke in the Bishopof Troyes in a thundering voice, and he added in a lower voice toClotaire: "Glorious King, do you not think it is high time to have thewoman gagged? If you do not, you must prepare to hear even worseaccusations."
Two leudes, who at the first orders of Clotaire had looked for a scarf,threw it over Brunhild's mouth and tied it behind her head.
"Oh, monster, spewed out of Hell!" the Bishop of Troyes thereuponproceeded to apostrophise Brunhild, "if this glorious family of FrankishKings, to whom the Lord granted the possession of Gaul in reward fortheir Catholic faith and their submission to the Church, if these Kingshad committed the crimes that you have the audacity of charging themwith in your diabolical spirit of mendacity, could they, as the visiblesupport given to them by God in overpowering their enemies, shows themto be--could they be the beloved sons of our holy Church? Would we, thefathers in Christ of the people of Gaul, order these to obey their Kingsand masters, and to submit to their will?--would we do so if they werenot the elect of the Lord? Go to--witch! You are the horror of theworld! The world now spews you back into hell, where you come from.Return thither, Oh, monster, who sought to unnerve your grandsons withdebauchery, in order that you might reign in their place! Oh, mybrothers in Christ, who of you all does not shudder with horror at thebase thought of the unheard-of crime that this execrable woman hasgloried in?"
That crime, the most execrable of all that the infamous Queen hadadmitted, aroused so profound an indignation among the assembled crowdthat one, unanimous cry of vengeance issued from its midst:--
"Death to Brunhild! Let the earth be rid of her! Let her perish amidsttortures!"